


Inside a Storm

by TearMeToPieces



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Person, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Feelings, Gay Billy Hargrove, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Steve Harrington, heavy themes- including attempted suicide and self-harm, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22899355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearMeToPieces/pseuds/TearMeToPieces
Summary: Billy comes back and, of course, there's only one place he can go.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 27
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first ever fic that I've posted to archive… which is weird… Anyway, this is also my first ever Harringrove fic (eh, you know, like actually posting), and aside of that also the first time in a loooong time I'm posting a fic that isn't finished yet. So that's a lot of firsts. 
> 
> Note: this fic takes place after s3, but Hopper never "died" and El never left and basically everything is fine... well, except for Billy
> 
> Last note: English is NOT my first language, so please excuse any mess ups with words or phrases

Billy ran until he couldn’t. He hated to admit it, but that wasn’t very far. His breath hitched. His legs gave out underneath him. His chest was heaving, and he felt like he might explode. The cold spring air was filling his lungs and seemed to be the only thing that kept him sane.   
He lay on the forest floor, staring up at the black Hawkins sky. It may have been spring, but the forest floor hadn’t cleared itself of dead leaves yet. When Billy lay, gasping for breath, amongst them, he couldn’t help but wonder at the irony.   
Yet, he knew he wasn’t going to die. He knew what dying felt like, after all. _Been there, done that_ , the voice in his head reminded him. And it fucking sucked.   
It did, however, not suck as much as being revived by a bunch of scientists who’d then proceed to keep you around for experimentation. When Billy awoke in the white bleached room, he’d figured this is what hell must feel like. Cold. Distant. Lonely. Not unlike life. But the scientists quickly made him realize he was alive and kicking. Well, not so much kicking, per se. 

So, Billy let himself catch his breath for a while. Not too long, though, because he knew he should be moving. If he wanted to keep ahead of the scientists, he couldn’t stay too long.   
He ignored the searing pain in his legs. He ignored the heaviness of his chest. He ignored the sweat that ensured the scrubs they gave him stuck tightly to his back. Billy got to his feet and took off. He wasn’t going to be anybody’s pet anymore, even if it killed him.

With this in mind, he wasn’t sure what drove him to walk, stumble and run all the way home. Once he arrived, he stared quietly at the house from a distance. The lights were on in the living room and in Max’s room. It couldn’t be very late then, he supposed. Max wouldn’t be allowed up. What would they say, if he knocked on the door now? Would they recognize him? Would they care to recognize him? He took another deep breath. Yes, spring air. He’d been gone for a while, he’d known that. He just hadn’t realized exactly how long, until he managed to get outside. They probably thought he was dead. It made sense, even he had thought he was dead.   
He’d be long gone and buried by now. Gone from their minds, long gone from their hearts, if he’d even been there in the first place. 

What would his dad say if he came back? 

Billy swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. He looked over his shoulder then and tensed. He was sure he hadn’t been followed. But how sure can one be? He wanted to keep running, go as far as his legs would allow him to go. He wanted to run up to the quarry and linger at the edge of that cliff. He wanted to jump down into the cold water and sink, sink, sink until he drowned. 

In the end, he walked up to his own front door. As much as he wanted to flee, a feeling deep inside him wanted to be protected instead. He wasn’t sure why he thought his dad could ever provide that. All he knew was that he felt like a ten-year-old boy, not yet aware of exactly how bad his life was going to turn out. How big a part his dad would play in that. He wanted to believe there was a place for him in this world and that his dad would provide it for him.   
Most of all, he realized while raising his hand to knock on the door, that his dad wasn’t the ultimate evil. That… _thing_ had been. The scientists had been. Whatever his dad threw at him, he decided he could handle it. So, even though a chill ran down his spine, he knocked on the door to his home in Hawkins. A remnant from another life. 

Billy had hoped Susan would be the one to open the door. She’d be the easiest to talk to, or perhaps rather, the easiest to push past so he could make his way over to his room and let himself fall onto his bed. Max would’ve been harder. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if Max had opened the door. He probably would’ve cried and hated himself over it. He would’ve run and hope she thought he was nothing more than a hallucination.  
But it wasn’t either of them. Of course it was Neil. And Neil almost never opened the door. Which meant Susan wasn’t home, maybe over at a friend’s. Which meant that there wasn’t going to be anyone on his side, if there ever was at all. Billy regretted coming home instantly.

“We buried you,” his dad said. His face lacked any emotion whatsoever. Billy couldn’t tell if he was going to be mad or simply let it slide. He knew one thing, though, Neil wasn’t going to be happy. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, because he hadn’t known, but knew that this was the only valid response nonetheless. 

“Max is just starting to get over you.”

That startled Billy. It must’ve been eight months, at least. Max didn’t care for him enough to mourn him that long… or did she? He remembered her crying, then, right before he’d died. He shivered.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he repeated. Neil clacked his tongue, seemed to be weighing his options. Then, he let out a deep breath. 

“Go. Don’t ever come back.” And with those words, his dad slammed the door shut right in front of his face. 

Billy exhaled slowly. His fingers pulled into fists, but he didn’t have the strength, physically or emotionally, to act on his feelings. Instead he bit his lips and turned around. He vaguely heard footsteps inside the house, someone coming downstairs. If he’d just knocked on the door a little later, it would’ve been Max. Would she have reacted the same way? Should he knock on the door again and find out?  
No, he decided, Neil wasn’t going to let her open the door anyway. Not now that he knew who’d be on the other side of it. So, instead, Billy left the pathway that led up to his- _their_ house. He walked the sidewalks until he was blocks removed from that building he’d never really been able to call home. He walked until he found a dark alleyway in what little center Hawkins had.   
Cramped between two stores, he leaned back against the wall. The scientists were going to find him here, he knew that. It wouldn’t even take them long. But at least, he decided, he could sleep here. He let his back slide down against the wall until his butt hit the hard concrete. It was cold to the touch and his scrubs didn’t help him much. 

Yet, when he sat there in the dark, the presence of streetlights but a distant reminder, he felt his eyes become heavy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept without the constant buzzing and the ever-present sharp, bright light of fluorescent tubes. Maybe the unending stretch of shadows to his left worried him, just a little bit, maybe he knew the shadows are where it liked to hide. But right at that moment, when he finally let his eyes close, he realized he didn’t care enough to be scared. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander off.   
Within seconds, he was in a world different, and yet so similar, to his own.

\---------------

What woke him wasn’t the bright, yellow light shining in his face (though he noticed it shortly after), but rather the voice that spoke through the thin veil of his slumber.

“Hargrove?” The surprise was laced through thick and heavy. Billy knew instantly he wasn’t there, he wasn’t with those scientists, although the coldness he felt was familiar. He shivered and opened his eyes. 

He blinked a couple of times and the flashlight shifted away from his face a little. Billy frowned. His whole body felt stiff, broken and bruised. He hadn’t felt much different in the past few months, but the pain in his back was different now. He shifted and realized he’d been sleeping with his back flat against a wall. That certainly explained a lot. 

“Hey, kid!” 

Billy blinked. _Oh right_ , someone was talking to him. He focused on the world before him and looked up at the person holding the flashlight. The blood drained from his face right away. His stomach dropped. _Shit_. He folded his hands into fists again, but he was in no position to put up a fight. He glanced briefly at the darkness to his left. It stretched on a little less far, he noticed. It must be early morning. If he ran for it, could he escape? 

“Don’t even try it, kid.” His voice was stern, but not mean, not hateful or condescending. Billy bit his lips and looked up at the man once more. Of all the people that could’ve run into him, did it have to be Chief Hopper? Billy wouldn’t have minded it otherwise; he’d been in trouble more than once and knew the Chief was often lenient on him. This time, though, he feared what it would mean. He wasn’t sure who the scientists belonged to, but the U.S. government wasn’t a poor guess. He could only assume the Chief would be loyal to them.   
His eyes started watering before he could help it. He clutched his hands to his chest and pulled his knees up. He shook his head softly. _No, not like this_. He’d known they would find him, but it was so fast. So, so fast. Too fast. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t go back. 

“Hey,” a soft voice spoke nearby. A hand landed on his shoulder. Billy flinched, but when nothing changed, he started breathing again. He blinked until the tears disappeared and until his vision cleared again. When he focused, he wasn’t suddenly back in that empty, white room. He wasn’t being stared at by four strangers and poked at by unknown hands. Instead, there was just one steady touch on his right side. There was one gaze fixed on him and when Billy looked over, he almost thought that gaze seemed worried. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, because those seemed to be the only words in his vocabulary these days. 

“Shit, kid, you don’t have to apologize,” the Chief said. He retreated his hand from Billy then, to run it through his own face instead as he got to his feet. Billy missed the contact so intensely and suddenly, he almost started crying again. 

“Who’s following you?” The question shook him from his thoughts. He frowned. Didn’t the Chief know? He glanced passed the man then, scanning the streets behind him. Was this a test? Did it matter? Billy swallowed and when he couldn’t find his words, he eventually just shrugged.

“Where have you been?”

He shrugged again.

“Are you hurt?”

He shrugged.

“How are you even alive?”

Another shrug.  
The Chief sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked briefly over his shoulder. He put the flashlight away and took a deep breath. 

“Alright, come with me,” the Chief said and extended his hand. Billy stared at the gesture. His heart sank. He shook his head and furrowed his brow. Maybe if he refused to cooperate, the Chief would force him and then maybe if he struggled enough, the Chief would accidentally hurt him and hurt him so much it’d break him. He clenched his jaw and shook his head again.

“Kid, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help, okay? But _shit_ , you gotta help me out here.” The Chief sighed. When Billy looked up, he could see the man getting nervous. “You died and now I find you here, wearing these weird scrubs and everything. I’ve got a hunch as to where you’ve been, and it isn’t pretty. If I’m right, then for god’s sake, let me help you.”

Billy gritted his teeth. His gaze fell. His toes started tingling and somehow, he knew that whatever he was going to do now, would matter a great deal. If he did decide to take a chance and make a run for it, he’d lose the favor of the Chief. If he struggled and fought, bit and cursed, he’d definitely loose his favor. If he nodded and followed, maybe, _just_ maybe, the Chief wouldn’t turn him in right away.  
So, that’s what he did. He nodded and let the Chief help him to his feet. The Chief glanced at him as if he meant to say something more, but he didn’t. Instead, he gestured for Billy to follow him and let him to his car. Billy reluctantly sat down in the passenger seat. 

The sky was starting to light up. The darkness at every corner became a little less dark as the seconds passed. Billy shivered when the Chief started to heat the car up. The car smelled like cigarettes and Billy was reminded as to how long he’d gone without them. His body ached, but he didn’t dare ask. He sat quietly as the Chief drove them away from the little town’s center. He stared at the buildings passing until the buildings turned into trees and they stopped moving. The Chief parked his car somewhere along an empty road. Then, he turned to Billy.

“Look,” the Chief started, “I can’t take you home. I hear you’ve met her, El, she’s my kid and I… if she knows you’re here, Max’s gonna know you’re here. Next thing you know, all those brats are aware of your whereabouts and they might just lead those assholes right to us.”

Billy nodded, vaguely keeping track of the words. He wondered why the Chief didn’t suggest just bringing him home. He appreciated the lack thereof, though. He forced himself to relax and wiped his sweaty palms on his scrubs. He’s somehow very aware of how much he _shouldn’t_ be here.

“So, I’m going to do something that’s probably not considered the most responsible course of action,” the Chief continued, before Billy could decide to just give in to his instincts and run off. “But _fuck_ what other choice do I have?” The Chief sighed, as if he couldn’t believe his own stupidity. Billy awaited the decision awkwardly. He knew, somewhere, the Chief was making decisions about him, _for_ him, about _his_ life, but he didn’t think he’d deserve a say in it either way. So, he kept quiet.

In the end, the Chief didn’t end up explaining his choice or even announcing his decision. Instead, he reignited the engine and drove off. Billy watched the trees turn into buildings again and stared off into the distance until they stop once more. Billy recognized the neighborhood. He’d been here before. Hell, Hawkins was a small town, he’d been _everywhere_ before. But he’d recognize a rich people neighborhood wherever he saw one. With a sinking feeling, he started to realize where the Chief was taking him. 

He knew Harrington was part of it all, somehow. He’d known, because _it_ had showed him. Billy had known personally, when Harrington crashed his car into his Camaro. He’d known when he’d spotted Harrington lurking in the distance, up there on that balcony, kids by his side. There was no other reason why the Chief would take him to this high end, no other reason but Harrington. And Billy felt himself filling up with dread. 

“Stay here,” the Chief ordered him. Billy frowned as the other man simply left the car and shut the door. He watched the Chief walk over to one of the front doors. He watched as he rang the doorbell and tapped his foot impatiently on the pavement. Billy clenched his jaw and contemplated his options. He could flee now…   
It was an empty thought. He knew he wasn’t going to flee even before he thought it. He knew it, because he simply didn’t have the strength to make a running for it. Apart from that, he knew it, because deep down inside, he wanted to know what Harrington would do. He wanted to know what he would say. How long it would take for Harrington to send him away. 

So, he watched from a distance until the Chief inevitably returned to the car. He walked over to Billy’s side and opened the door. Billy got out without having been asked to do so. 

“He’s agreed to letting you stay. His parents aren’t home, which is a problem in and of itself of course, but convenient for now. If you need anything, and kid, I mean _anything_ , you call me at the office. Okay? Just don’t mention your name when you do.” Billy heard the Chief’s words, but could hardly process them. Time seemed to slow down as he turned to face Harrington’s home. He saw him standing there, in the doorway. Billy nearly stopped breathing altogether. 

He felt a gentle touch on his arm. He was still standing next to the car, the Chief at his side. He swallowed. _Right_. He let go of the car and took a few steps towards Harrington. He stopped, then, and turned around. The Chief hadn’t moved from his car, but had kept his eyes on Billy's back. Billy had to search for words for a while. His mouth felt dry. When he eventually spoke, his voice cracked, but the words came out nonetheless.

“Thank you.” It seemed he’d managed to expand his vocabulary.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all of you who are reading this and special thanks to those of you leaving kudos <3

Having Billy _fucking_ Hargrove in his home was about as weird as it sounded… and even weirder. For one thing, the guy was supposed to be dead, which was a fact that hadn’t quite settled itself in his mind yet. Aside from that, Steve just didn’t know what to do with him.   
He looked like shit, that much was for sure. Hopper had told him he’d found Billy in an alleyway somewhere. He’d been sleeping there, apparently, hiding from someone unfamiliar to Hopper. Though Hopper had told Steve his best guess and the idea didn’t exactly thrill him. Regardless, evil scientists weren’t something Steve was afraid of. Mind Flayers, Demodogs, Demogorgons and whatever else might be hiding in the shadows. That’s what scared him. Scientists? Nah, those were just people. 

“Eat something,” he told Billy as he put down a plate of leftovers on the coffee table. Billy had come inside, set himself down on the couch and not moved since. He was shivering, though, and Steve had to fight the urge to throw a blanket over him. Billy glanced at the food; he didn’t touch it. Steve studied him until eventually he figured maybe Billy would start eating if he left. So, he did. 

“I’ll be upstairs,” he said. With that, he got up and walked off. He was going to collect some clothes, something for Billy to wear apart from those awful scrubs he was wearing now. He wasn’t sure what would fit Billy. Normally, he’d guess nothing he owned would fit the guy. Yeah, Billy was slightly shorter than him, but the guy was thicker in every possible place. He’d rip right through Steve’s jeans. Now, though, Steve wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t really tell, since the scrubs were obviously too wide on Billy, but maybe that already said enough. 

So, he grabbed one of his hoodies and took out the only pair of sweatpants he owned and figured that would be the safest option for now. He felt Billy might be offended too, if Steve grabbed him something that wouldn’t have fit before. As if Steve anticipated him to be weaker. Which, to be fair, he did. The guy really didn’t look good. Like a ghost of his former self. 

But at least he was alive, Steve figured. 

The thought stopped him dead in his tracks, then. He gripped the side of his desk to keep himself steady. Suddenly, his heart was racing. A pressure seized hold of his chest. He’d been so occupied with getting Billy the right food, getting him comfortable clothes and allowing him some space, he’d been _mothering_ already and he hadn’t even realized the full extent of what was happening right in front of him.

Billy was alive.

He was _alive_.

Billy Hargrove was _not dead_.

Steve’s stomach did a little jump. He heard a certain static ringing in his ears, as if he was underwater. He felt like it, too, as if a thin layer had been placed between him and the world. Thin enough to see through, but present enough to make him feel disembodied, disoriented, as if this were all a dream. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t. 

Steve remembered that awful and dreadful day when they’d buried Billy. Or, well, “buried” wasn’t the right word per se. They’d never been given Billy’s body. That was something Steve had struggled with a lot. When Will had supposedly died, those scientists had ensured there to be a fake body. Now, the story was that the government had taken possession of the body, due to some dangerous virus still taking host there. As if that made sense. Billy’s dad believed it sure enough. Max knew the truth. Her mom didn’t bother to intervene. But Steve, Steve had wondered why the government had supposedly taken him. All he knew was that when they buried Will, Will wasn’t actually dead. Now, they got to bury an empty casket. No definitive proof of death, apart from that horrible, terrible image of Billy’s sacrifice, which Steve couldn’t seem to wipe from his mind’s eye. 

The whole party had come to the funeral, more for Max than anything else. Apart from El, of course, she’d come because she'd wanted to. In the short seconds she actually knew Billy, she’d grown fond. She'd cried just about as much as Max had. Steve had seen how uncomfortable the boys in their group acted. They hadn’t known what to do with themselves. Neither had Steve. Robin had been there, though, she’d held his hand. She hadn’t known Billy, but she’d been there when he’d died. It’d felt right to come. 

They hadn’t spoken about it for a long time after. Until eventually he’d spilled his guts with Robin, as he always seemed to do these days. He wondered how he’d ever managed without her.

“Come on,” she’d said to him one eerily warm, winter evening, “what’s the deal?” 

Steve had sighed and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, but he’d known there was no use in not telling her. So, he’d shrugged. 

“It just doesn’t feel right,” he’d said. Robin had looked at him the way she always did, somehow seeming to understand more than he himself did.

“This about Billy?”

“How did you know?”

“I was waiting for you to start that conversation.” She’d shrugged. “One queer to another… you know, I tend to be perceptive.”

That had startled Steve more than anything. Mostly, because he hadn’t realized _that_ particular part of his feelings yet. He’d looked at Robin like she was batshit crazy. Robin, of course, was far from crazy. She’d been one hundred per cent right. They’d talked about it for a long time and it’d made sense. He’d liked Billy. Not when the guy smashed his brains in, mind you. No, after that. When their lives had returned to normal, before that fateful summer started. He’d started to like Billy when all he received were some harsh looks in the hallways. A soft shove in the shoulder, when they passed each other. A taunting voice during basketball practice. A curious look during some boring class, as if they were both wondering the same thing at the same time: _what if we did talk_? Steve knew they hadn’t been friends (although he’d wanted to be), but at that point they hadn’t been enemies anymore either.   
Until the Mind Flayer came along. 

Steve sighed and fumbled with the clothes in his hands. The knuckles of his right hand turned white from their tight grip on the desk. He’d waited long enough, he decided. Time to check whether Billy had eaten something or not. 

Once he entered the living room area, he encountered Billy in the exact same place where he’d left him. He would’ve bet a hundred bucks the guy hadn’t moved one inch at all. Yet, the plate on the table was empty, the food gone. Steve pondered on the best course of action. Should he remain standing? Sit on the couch? Sit on the chair opposite to grant Billy some space? In the end he decided on the latter. Space was probably for the best. He sat down and took a few seconds to study Billy. He looked a little better. A little less dead, perhaps. He was still shivering, though and his gaze was fixated on something far away, like he hadn’t quite realized Steve was even there. 

“Brought you a change of clothes,” Steve said and placed the fabric on the coffee table between them. Steve noticed then that Billy wasn’t wearing any shoes at all. He frowned. He hadn’t noticed that before. He felt like he should’ve. Should he ask Billy’s size? No, he decided it could wait. Billy wouldn’t want him to ask about it right off the bat either way. 

Billy glanced at the clothes on the table. A frown appeared on his face and Steve could see another shiver running down his spine. Hopper had said he’d probably only been out on the streets for this one night. Instead, Billy looked like he’d been out on the streets for months. His hair was different. That was one of the first things Steve had noticed. It was shorter. It looked all wrong, like whoever cut it hadn’t cared for looks, just for _efficiency_ and considering Hopper’s predictions, that didn’t seem entirely too far off. 

“Come on,” Steve said then, “I’ll show you to the shower.”

When he got to his feet and walked out of the room, he wasn’t sure whether he’d expected Billy to follow. Billy did, however. Steve heard him tiptoe behind him. He wanted to ask why he was being so quiet, careful almost, as if he was afraid he’d shatter the very ground beneath his feet. He decided that maybe that was exactly what Billy felt like. Walking the thin line between this newfound reality and the one he’d thought he’d be stuck with for the rest of eternity.

After he’d showed Billy the bathroom and told him to take his time, Steve moved to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and quickly concluded he should go grocery shopping today. His fridge wasn’t empty per se, but it was calculated on getting him through the week until the kids would come by on Friday. Steve wasn’t going to starve Billy, on the contrary, what with the way Billy looked, Steve felt like he’d best cook as if he was serving two people instead of one.   
Steve wasn’t the best cook, but he wasn’t bad either and the kids didn’t seem to mind the difference between the two much anyway. He wondered if Bill could cook, whether he was good, _better_ than Steve. He wondered what Billy would say if Steve cooked for him. He wondered what it’d be like to cook _with_ Billy. 

Steve shook his head. _Shit, don’t be stupid_ , he told himself. So, he made a list of all the things he wanted to buy, the things he needed for Billy. Once he was done, he read the thing through and added a couple more things. He tapped the floor impatiently. _Is Billy okay?_ Should he check? 

He grunted and got to his feet, walked over to the hallway. Stopped. _No, leave him be_. He sighed and turned back around. His gaze fell upon his phone. He wanted to call Robin. Wanted to ask her what to do. Have her come over and help him out. He couldn’t though, could he? No, Hopper was clear. No one was supposed to know. 

So, he called Hopper instead. The phone rang exactly twice before Hopper answered. Which is like a new record for him and Steve cursed himself right away. He must’ve thought something bad was happening. Instead, it was just Steve, calling, because he didn’t know what to do with himself now that Billy was showering. 

“Something wrong?” Hopper asked, immediately confirming Steve’s suspicions. Steve sighed.

“I guess not.”

“So, you’re calling me, because…”

“I’m just…” He stopped, then. Were they tapping these phones, too? _Shit_. He should’ve thought that through. No wonder Hopper thought this was an emergency call. Did he just ruin everything already? He had to think of a reason why he’d call Hopper. _Shit_. Steve felt his heartbeat rising. He was suddenly very aware of guys in white coats in sterile surroundings, of people sitting behind desks, listening in on private conversations and on whispers throughout the town. He wondered how many people they’d heard, how many secrets they’d learned.

“The kids,” he said eventually, “I was wondering if you know whether one of the kids needs to be picked up.”

He heard a sigh on the other end of the line. He could imagine Hopper pinching the bridge of his nose, heavy frown on his face, wishing he’d gotten more coffee. Steve bit his lip. He knew his excuse was lame, but he hoped Hopper caught on.

“That won’t be necessary, kid.” 

The answer was clear. No one was to know about Billy. Absolutely no one. Steve swallowed. He nodded, even though Hopper couldn’t see it. He said his goodbyes then and hung up. With a sigh, he sat down at the kitchen table and continued tapping his foot.

He waited. He waited five minutes. He waited ten minutes. He waited until an hour had passed. Then, he got to his feet and marched over to the bathroom. He wasn’t even close to the door, but he saw it right away. Water. The wooden boards were darker close to the bathroom door, a slight reflection visible in them. The dark spot slowly spread out across the floor. 

Steve didn’t hesitate. He stormed over to the bathroom and barged in without knocking. A tiny wave of water greeted him and washed over the floor behind him as soon as he opened the door. He was still wearing his shoes, but could feel it nonetheless: the water was searing hot. He looked over at the tub and for the scariest two seconds of his life, he didn’t see Billy at all. His heart sank, he stopped dead in his track. Had he imagined all of it? 

But then he noticed. Billy _was_ there, only he was under water and the bathtub was overflowing, water kept on streaming. Steve snapped out of it. He walked over, turned the tab off and didn’t think twice when he reached down, grabbed Billy’s arm and dragged him upwards out of the water. 

Billy gasped. His eyes snapped open. His breath hitched and suddenly he started coughing so bad, Steve feared he might suffocate after all. He leaned heavily on the side of the tub. Steve bit back a curse, he could feel his hand burning just from the short time he’d held it under water. While Billy was catching his breath, Steve noticed he hadn’t stripped down. Instead, Billy had opted to keep his scrubs on. The water was dirty with mud, grass, _blood_.   
Steve leaned over and unplugged the tub. He watched the water drain away. He wished it’d go faster. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, which was a stupid question, he was very much aware. Billy didn’t respond. He just clung onto the edge of the bathtub for dear life. Steve bit his lips and pondered his life’s choices. He wanted to ask why Billy would do such a thing, but he was afraid he understood. It’s not like Steve himself hadn’t wondered, even if just briefly, what it’d be like, whether it wouldn’t just be for the best. He did, however, not understand how Billy managed to fight the urge to resurface. 

“Put the clean clothes on,” Steve said eventually, “I’ll be outside.”

And he left Billy then, figuring he shouldn’t be in his hair too much. He did, however, leave the door open. He made sure to be out of sight, so Billy wouldn’t feel watched, but close enough so he’d be able to hear if something was going on. And so, he waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no concrete idea where I'm going, though I do have a couple of chapters ready to upload. I guess I kind of know where I want to end up;)  
> Either way, I'm thinking this will have around 8 chapters total, might be a little more, might be less. We'll see~~


	3. Chapter Three

Billy stared at the door for a really long time. He wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him. Had he really wanted to drown? No, he thought he didn’t. It was just so much _easier_. He gritted his teeth. He’d always hated easy. _Fuck. What had become of him?_  
He dragged himself out of the tub. The hot water had caused blisters on his skin, but he didn’t mind. He hardly felt them. He took off the scrubs he’d practically been married to for the past couple of months and put on the clothes Harrington had left out for him. 

It felt… different. And something about them smelled inherently like _Steve_. As soon as Billy had put them on, he decided he’d never take them off again. He pulled the hood over his head, to hide the absence of his long locks. Something he’d almost forgotten about in the past months, but now that Steve was around, it seemed like he’d been reminded of all that he’d lost. Of all that he _wasn’t_. 

He made his way back to the living room and sank down on the couch. When was the last time he’d sat on something so soft as Steve's couches? He couldn’t remember. He shivered once more, but he wasn’t cold. No, the clothes Steve laid out for him definitely helped with that. The shivering already felt like the start of a habit he’d form; yet, being aware of it didn’t allow him to stop. His feet were still freezing, though, so he put them up on the couch and set cross-legged, keeping his feet warm under his body. 

When Steve- _since when was he Steve?_ \- did come into the living room, he looked at Billy briefly, but didn’t complain about his feet being up on the couch. 

“So,” Steve stated. Billy’s eyes automatically drifted down toward the source of a tapping sound. Steve was restless. He kept tapping his foot on the floor. Billy swallowed. He felt something tighten in his chest. It made him nervous. His eyes darted towards the backdoor. He suddenly really wanted to get away. It felt like he was underwater all over again, he couldn’t breathe.

Steve stopped tapping. And just like that, the world cleared again. Billy’s shoulders felt lighter. He blinked. He wasn’t sure why he’d hated it so much. 

“Look, I’m okay with you staying here,” Steve continued. He seemed to be looking everywhere, but not directly at Billy. He kept folding and unfolding his hands. He shifted, as if he couldn’t quite figure out how to sit straight anymore. Billy watched it all quietly. Steve cleared his throat, seemed to be considering his words. 

“I’m just trying to say. This is weird, for me, okay? You were… you _died_ and I- we went to your funeral and everything. Now you’re suddenly here and… and you’re not _talking_ and I get it- I do. Something happened, something terrible, probably, but I’m saying,” Steve stopped. He averted his gaze to the ceiling for a couple of seconds and cursed. “I’m not going to force you to tell me anything, okay? It’s just that… I need to know _some things_ in order to know how to _help_ you. And I need to know what’s after you, in order to know when I should answer the door and when I shouldn’t. You know what I’m saying?”

Billy stared at him. The words floated through his mind. It was as if Steve had decided to talk twice as much, now that Billy kept quiet. Although, that wasn’t entirely fair. Steve had been quiet before. He’d let him be, trusted Billy in his own house. And Billy understood what he was saying. It made sense. He had to know _something_. Billy pressed his lips together, pondered. 

“I’m sorry,” he said and immediately cursed himself. He hadn’t meant to say that. He just couldn’t help but saying it, over and over and over. Tears welled up in his eyes. He looked down at the carpet before him. _Shit. Why was he like this?_

“Sorry? For… what for?” It was an honest question, Billy recognized that. But he’d forgotten how to talk to people. The scientists only asked him so many questions. They were all technical. It was all: “does this hurt?” Or: “but have you _really_ tried?” Or: “tell me what you feel.” But they were never really talking to him. They were talking to a subject. _Their_ subject. They were talking to a _thing_ and Billy had let them. He figured he’d deserved as much. 

And now? What was he supposed to say to Steve? He knew what he was sorry for. He was sorry for nearly drowning in Steve’s bathtub. He was sorry for nearly kicking Steve’s brains in that faithful autumn night. He was sorry for being an asshole, for being who his dad wanted him to be, for always bullying Max. Most of all, he was sorry for being an easy target. He was sorry for letting _it_ take possession of his brain and lead him around like a puppet. He was sorry for all those people he’d killed. Sorry for how much danger he’d put Max and El in. Sorry for everything. But how does one say all of that? 

So, he shook his head and shrugged, but he felt like he had to say _something,_ had to give Steve _something_. 

“Scientists.” Billy’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. He figured Steve wouldn’t have heard him, but he must’ve been paying a lot of attention. Steve’s lips turned into a straight line. 

“They took you, back at the mall?” Steve asked and Billy nodded. He didn’t look at Steve. 

“You’ve been there all this time?”

He nodded again.

“You escaped from them?”

Another nod.

“Okay, so no opening doors for guys in white lab-coats then,” Steve stated and Billy felt the tiniest smile forming on his lips. As if they’d show up in their lab-coats… He looked up at Steve and as soon as Billy saw his face, he realized that Steve was perfectly aware of that. He’d said it on purpose. Billy’s smile faltered, he blinked. Steve was trying to cheer him up and it warmed his heart in a way that he hadn’t felt since… well, since he was just a kid really.

“Steve?” His voice cracked as he tested the name on his tongue. It rolled off nicely. Billy wondered why he hadn’t called him Steve before. He frowned as his eyes darted off to the hallway that led to the front door. They were going to find him, weren’t they? 

Steve looked at him expectantly and Billy realized he’d been meaning to say something. 

“I went passed my… _old_ house. Neil saw me. He’s gonna… if they _talk_ to him.” He wasn’t sure how to convey what he was feeling. He felt suffocated. He felt rushed, suddenly. His heart was beating faster and his mind kept wondering off. He knew they were going to find him. They’d always promised they would. Subconsciously, Billy started to pinch his arm, as if to ensure himself he was even really still here. 

“You talked to your dad?” Steve seemed kind of bewildered. Looking at Steve grounded Billy, if only a little. Billy shrugged. It hadn’t been talking per se, it also hadn’t been not talking. He really didn’t know and he didn’t care. He hadn’t wanted to be there anyway. 

Steve kept staring at him. Billy knew he looked bad, ghostly, _weird_. He also knew he wasn’t the same guy as when Steve had last seen him. It made him feel all sorts of wrong, when he thought about how he treated Steve before. It pained him, knowing how much _anger_ there’d been inside of him. 

Now though? The anger was gone. Instead there was a void, deep, deep inside of him. And he didn’t know how to fill it. He watched as Steve crossed his legs and then uncrossed them. He watched as Steve licked his lips and clacked his tongue, looking for the right words to say. The reason he’d been so angry with Steve… well, he’d known. It hadn’t been a mystery then, it wasn’t now. But he also knew that even _if_ Steve somehow magically decided to accept his fucking weird _feelings_ , it wouldn’t fill that void. It’d be a temporary fix. It wouldn’t fix anything at all. There was something wrong _inside_ of him and he could feel it. He just didn’t know how to put it into words. 

So, instead, he said nothing at all. 

\-----------

Steve had to go grocery shopping later that afternoon. He’d been sitting around the house all day, and Billy _knew_ it was simply because Steve somehow knew Billy hadn’t wanted to be alone. He had to go to the store, though, because, as he said: “we need to get some food in you.”

As soon as he left, Billy didn’t know what to do with himself. He stared at the blank television screen. He tested the sound of his fingers tapping on his legs, but he didn’t like it and stopped. He glanced over at the door to the backyard. Was there something there, in the shadows? He shook his head. _No, don’t go there_. He focused on the blank screen again. He bit his lips and inhaled deeply through his nose. 

“Focus,” a voice whispered in the back of his mind. “ _Focus_ , Billy.” 

He stared at the screen, but nothing changed, nothing seemed to be happening. He didn’t want to be thinking about that voice, but it didn’t let him go. No, instead, the voice in his head sighed. Billy was reminded of tightly pressed lips, an exasperated sigh, crossed arms and a stern look. 

“Try _again_ ,” the voice in his head said. Billy clenched his jaw. He felt his chest tighten. He wanted to stop his mind. He wanted to stop wandering off, wanted to stop going back to _that place_. But the world around him started to blur. He didn’t feel cold, he didn’t feel warm either. He gritted his teeth until it felt like he might break something. His hands folded into fists. 

“ _Again_.”

And suddenly, a shadow shot forward from where Billy sat. It slithered across the floor, reached far under the coffee table, only to emerge on the other side. In the same second, the television screen shattered into what seemed to be a thousand pieces. 

Billy didn’t move. He watched it happen quietly, but a shiver went down his spine. The pressure on his chest increased. 

“No,” he whispered, he hadn’t meant to _do_ that. He hadn’t meant to do that, because he hadn’t meant for any of it to work. It shouldn’t have worked. It _shouldn’t_. He shook his head. Fingers grabbing tightly onto his short curls. _No_. 

“Well done, Billy,” the voice told him. He felt the ghost of a hand brush past his shoulder. A token of good will. A praise. He’d been _good_. He’d looked up then, back when he’d _actually_ heard the voice, up into those eyes which he mostly avoided. He’d seen how cold they were, distant. He’d seen similar eyes too often in his life. He’d known not to trust them. He breathed heavily. What if they were already here? Maybe they’d wanted him to escape, hoping it’d help them get what they wanted.

Billy stared at the broken television screen. He felt frozen, but wanted to run. If they were watching him, would they be satisfied? As it often did, his mind wandered off to that girl. _El_. The one _it_ had been after. She’d thrown him through a wall, with the mere strength of her will. Billy frowned at the television screen. He knew what the scientists had wanted to achieve. They’d hoped to do something similar. He glanced down at his trembling hands. It didn’t work as well as it had on her, though.

He knew why. She was just so much stronger than him.

\-------------------

He fell asleep soon after that. It always tended to make him tired, every attempt. His dreams weren’t kind to him, though. Of course they weren’t. 

In his dreams, he was back underground. Underground, where they’d kept him. He felt someone’s gaze upon his back. He shuddered where he lay. Nothing but a thin blanket separating him from the stone-cold floor. He turned and was greeted by him, the doctor himself. Billy took a deep breath, he could feel something fill his lungs, but it didn’t seem to by oxygen at all. Instead, it seemed to suffocate him. 

“Tick-tock, Mr. Hargrove,” the doctor said and tapped his watch. The sound vibrated through every fiber of his being and he shivered once more. He gritted his teeth and attempted to shake his head, to protest, to shout or run away. His body didn’t listen. Instead, he got to his feet and followed the doctor through eerily identical hallways. 

“Billy.” Suddenly, something whispered in his ear. Billy stopped dead in his tracks. He turned. The doctor was telling him something, but Billy didn’t hear. He faced whoever whispered to him and immediately, his mouth felt dry. He seemed to grow smaller. Steve was behind him. He seemed to be in pain. Billy wanted to reach out, but his muscled tensed. The world grew larger and yet the walls felt closer. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t _move_. His chest tightened. Steve looked at him, wide eyes, and _screamed_. The shadows held onto him, Billy noticed then. They were gripping Steve’s arms, pulling at his shoulders, shaking his legs. 

_No_ , he wanted to say, _no! Stop!_ But no sound left his throat. He moved his arm, _finally_ , but all it did was move the shadows and Billy watched helplessly as they held onto Steve’s throat and started _squeezing_. Suddenly, Billy felt as if he was falling apart. A hand gripped his shoulder. A shiver ran down his spine. A face pressed itself close to his. He felt someone’s breath on his cheek. 

“Kill him,” the doctor suggested. 

Billy felt his stomach turn. He watched helplessly, dreadfully, as the shadows moved to tear Steve apart. He listened to Steve’s screams, heard Steve calling out his name, wished he could do something, _wanted_ to do something, to stop it, to help Steve, but as he moved his arm painfully slow, he felt his own skin coming undone and just like that _he_ was falling to pieces too and he was screaming right alongside Steve. 

“Do it,” the doctor urged. Billy swallowed, but he’d never quite figured out how to deny the doctor’s wishes. Didn’t quite know how to stand up for himself anymore. Didn’t quite feel his own body, his own soul. So, as the world seemed to crumble around him, he lifted what was left of a heavy arm. And did as he was told to do.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, another chapter:)  
> Please excuse any typos made, I've been too busy to really check my own work:'D

When Steve came back, he found Billy asleep on the couch. He seemed restless, though, Steve could tell. His gaze fell upon the television screen, or rather, the lack thereof. What had happened to that? Well, obviously Billy happened to it. Had he been mad? Steve’s stomach tied itself into a knot. He knew Billy hadn’t wanted to be alone.   
He’d better do something about that screen, too, but it could wait. His parents weren’t coming home any time soon anyway.

After he’d packed the groceries away, he went to put the extra clothes he’d bought in one of the guest rooms. He’d also bought shoes, which was ridiculous, because he had no idea what size Billy’s shoes were; thus, he’d just bought three different sizes. Robin would call him an idiot. She wouldn’t be wrong. 

As soon as he came back to the living room, he noticed Billy had gotten even worse. He was trashing around on the couch, he kept furrowing his brows and mumbling words that Steve couldn’t make sense of. He felt bad for waking Billy up, inasmuch as that knew Billy needed the sleep. He didn’t feel bad for waking him from his dreams, though, because these were definitely not good ones. 

He laid a gentle hand on Billy’s shoulder. Immediately, he noticed Billy was sweating, he was hot to the touch. Steve shook him carefully, but Billy didn’t wake. So, Steve shook a little harder. When Billy still didn’t wake, he started calling out his name. 

“Billy,” he said, careful, at first. It didn’t help.

“ _Billy_ ,” he repeated, and then: “Billy!”

Billy’s eyes shot open. A hand grabbed onto Steve’s arm tightly, nails digging into his skin. Other than that, Billy didn’t move. He looked up at Steve with wide, scared eyes. He blinked a few times. Steve tried to smile.

“It’s okay,” he said, “you were just dreaming.”

Billy looked away from Steve and glanced at the TV. He was shaking all over, Steve noticed. A frown appeared on Billy’s face when he saw the state of the TV. 

“Not a dream,” Billy stated. Steve felt his heart beating heavy in his chest. He was very much aware of Billy’s hand still on his arm. The startled look still on Billy’s face, the sweat that made his short curls stick to his forehead. Suddenly, Steve realized what Billy meant. 

“A memory?” he asked. He was familiar with those. Feverish dreams that were all too real. Crowded in a dark tunnel, deep under the earth, walls closing in on him. Kids screaming, but lost and he’d try to look around, reach out for them, but they were never there. A memory so vivid his subconscious kept deciding it’d be the perfect scene for a new, yet ever gruesome story. And yes, back there in that tunnel, they’d gotten out. In Steve’s dreams they never did.

“They’re coming,” Billy whispered. Steve’s stomach sank through the floor. If it weren’t for Billy’s tight grip on his arm, he worried he might’ve fallen to his knees right away. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He had to fight the urge to run off and switch each and every light on in the house and light candles in the darkest places, as he often would. It wasn’t fully dark out yet, though. 

“Who’s coming?” 

Billy looked up at him, seemed to realize only then that he was still holding on tight. His grip loosened. He blinked and sat up. He looked lost for a moment. 

“Them,” he said, “the doctor.”

Steve frowned. The doctor? Just the one? Before, Billy had mentioned _scientists_ , plural. Steve bit his lip. He knew there was a lot Billy wasn’t telling him. But at least, and he exhaled deeply, Billy hadn’t meant the monsters. At least he hadn’t meant the shadows that seemed to have eyes some days. Scientists. Yes, those Steve could handle.

“You’re safe here.” Steve tried his best to sound reassuring, but all of it was still a bit odd to him. Here he was, reassuring Billy _fucking_ Hargrove. Billy, who was supposed to be dead. Billy who’d never seemed to give two shits about him. And now, Steve suddenly felt _responsible_ for him. He felt _protective_ over him. He wanted to take Billy’s hands and squeeze them tightly. He wanted to wrap his arms around those shivering shoulders and hug Billy, until he wasn’t cold anymore. He wanted to softly lay a hand on Billy’s cheek and look directly into those startling blue eyes as he whispered: “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” 

But he didn’t know how. So, he stood straight and gestured for Billy to follow him.

“Come on, want to help me make dinner?”

\-------------

Billy was surprisingly good at cooking. Steve could tell he’d had a lot of practice in it. Even now, in his weakened state, he carried a certain confidence around the kitchen. Steve made a mental note to ask Billy to help him out more often. Or maybe he’d like to bake too, Steve wondered, he’d always wanted to bake something nice, like a pie or muffins. It just never really seemed like something he’d do on his own. 

After a few minutes, Billy seemed so preoccupied with the cooking, Steve decided to try and take a step back. He sat down at the kitchen counter and watched Billy continue as if he hadn’t realized Steve was gone. He did that a lot, Steve realized. Billy seemed to constantly forget Steve was in the room, yet, when he was actually gone… well, the TV screen got to experience that. 

Steve was almost so lost in thought that he missed it, but just from the corner of his eyes, he suddenly saw Billy shift a pan around with his bare hands, almost carefully _avoiding_ the handles. Steve jumped to his feet. 

“That’s hot!” he said, like an idiot, as he marched over to grab Billy’s hand and study it. The redness showed right away. 

“Water now,” Steve ordered, and Billy let himself be dragged to the sink. Billy’s jaw was tense, his restlessness was visible in his shifting eyes. Steve wanted to ask why he’d done that, wanted to tell him to never do it again. But he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly why Billy was doing it. It was the exact same reason as why Billy had decided to turn the heat all the way up in that bathtub. _He likes it cold_. Steve sighed. 

“I understand,” he said eventually. “I do, but there’s no point in this, Billy. You’re just hurting yourself. He’s not here anymore.”

“No.” The word came out through gritted teeth. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me, Billy, _please_. Make me understand!”

Billy shook his head and ripped his hand away from Steve’s grip. Steve was very aware of the food still cooking in the background. The pan Billy had been moving, abandoned mid-movement. Steve crossed his arms. 

“I’m on your side, Billy,” he said, “just let me in.”

“Steve.”

“Look, I’m not angry. I’m really not. I _understand_ , you don’t want to talk to me. I get it, but just don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’m not-” Billy started, but he stopped himself. A deep frown appeared on his face. Steve’s arms fell to his sides, he noticed Billy’s shaking fingers. He didn’t want to upset Billy, he didn’t want to make it _worse_. 

“Billy,” he said, but that’s when he noticed them. His heart seemed to stop. His breath hitched. It felt as if someone had decided to stomp on his chest, knocking the air right out of him. Black spots started to appear at the edges of his vision. A chill went down his spine.

_The shadows were moving_.

“Shit!” The word escaped his mouth and he felt something tugging on the edges of his being, urging him to turn around and run. Where had he left his bat? _Shit_. 

“We have to _go_ ,” he said and took Billy’s arm. 

The shadows were moving, they were _moving_ and that meant monsters. It meant they were coming for them, had found them after all. They weren’t safe. No one was safe. He had to find the kids. Had to protect them. He attempted to blink the black dots out of his sight. His throat felt dry. His heart was beating heavy. He had to _do_ something, but somehow, he stood absolutely frozen as he watched the shadows move, draw closer to them.   
He noticed the spikes, arms almost, moving, drawing in. They seemed to be centered around the two of them, seemed to _know_ where to look. And Billy was just standing there, too. Tears in his eyes, heavy breathing, hands into fists. Steve blinked, it felt like his brains were swimming in his head. He couldn’t tell left from right anymore, up from down. His eyes were focused on those shadows, watching them, as if warning them not to move one inch. He felt drowned in them, felt them reaching his arms, his legs, as if planning to tear him apart. 

Suddenly, he was back in that tunnel. He was back there, underground. He could hardly breathe, hardly _see_. The kids were around him, everywhere and they just kept _going_ and Steve knew they had to turn back, knew this was beyond them, but the kids wouldn’t _listen_ and he couldn’t go back on his own. His head was throbbing, his lungs were heaving. He had to _focus_ , but the world was blurry and then he heard the monsters scream, heard their paws crawling across the dirt behind them. He felt his head spinning. His grip on the world slipping away and he-

“ _Steve_.”

He blinked. Billy was standing close to him, very close. Steve felt his heart skip a beat. Complete silence befell on them. He took a deep breath. Billy’s gaze was strong, serious. Steve noticed Billy was holding onto his hands, gripping them tightly. Steve blinked once more as he noticed the yellow light of a setting sun shining in his eyes through the window. He looked around. They were in the kitchen. Behind Billy, the stove was quiet. Apparently, Billy had moved to turn it off.

“What happened?” 

The shadows were gone, that’s one thing. Or were they never really there?

“You just disappeared,” Billy said, “you were there and then, poof, nothing.”

For a frightening second, Steve wondered what it’d be like if he’d _actually_ done that. Disappeared and reappeared in that dark tunnel. He shook his head. _Don’t think about that_.

“The shadows,” Steve whispered. “Were they…?” _Real_.

Billy shrugged helplessly. He averted his gaze and bit his lip. 

“It was me.” The simple words were uttered so quietly, Steve almost thought he’d heard them in a dream. But here Billy Hargrove was, admitting that the shadows were somehow _him_. Steve laughed nervously.

“What?”

“The scientists.”

“They did this?”

He shrugged, then. Billy looked around for a while, studying the walls for answers, but eventually his gaze fell back on Steve.

“I suppose, but…” Billy stopped. He seemed to be struggling with his words, but this was the most talkative Steve had seen him since he arrived, he wasn’t about to interrupt that. 

“It was also _him_ ,” Billy added eventually. He didn’t look at Steve anymore and let go of his hands. He took a step back and walked towards the stove. Then, Billy proceeded to cook as if nothing ever really happened. Steve stood behind him, bewildered. 

_Him_. Who’s him? The doctor Billy mentioned before? No, that doesn’t seem right, Billy would’ve named him if it was the doctor. Steve stared at the kitchen walls. There were no shadows anymore. _Shadows_. Seeing them move had sent him right back to those tunnels, to monsters and the smell of death. 

The realization hit him like walking into a brick wall. Shadows. Those powers. _Scientists_. Monsters. The Mind Flayer had looked like that, when Will had seen it in the upside down. Big, shadowy, dark. 

Where, and how, had Billy gotten control over shadows? Or, Steve thought as he remembered the broken TV screen, had he gotten powers? How come he couldn’t control them?   
But Billy had also come back to life. The Mind Flayer had possessed him, had taken his body hostage. He’d murdered by using Billy as a puppet. The Mind Flayer had pierced its claws right through Billy’s chest and destroyed his beating heart. If Billy was able to come back to life, maybe these powers weren’t so strange after all. 

Apparently, the Mind Flayer had not only left traces on Billy’s mind and his skin, but it seemed like it had managed to infect his entire body. 

\--------------

Dinner was quiet. Steve didn’t mind it, but he also kind of did. Maybe it was more that he wished he didn’t mind, because he wanted to achieve that level of comfort with Billy. But they were not anywhere _near_ that stage of being. So, dinner was awkward.

Afterwards, though, they quietly did the dishes together and they worked in better harmony than either of them expected. By the time they’d sat down on the couch, coffee in hand, Steve started to wonder what he was going to do with Billy once the night would come. Earlier he’d figured he’d put Billy in the guest room, but now… Now he wasn’t so sure how Billy dealt with being alone. He kind of didn’t want to leave him alone, but he didn’t want to smother him either.

Maybe he could get Billy to sleep on the couch again, then at least, he could keep an eye on him without it being weird… Steve glanced over at the broken TV. That would’ve been perfect…

“Wait.” Steve got to his feet. “I have an idea.”

He walked over to the TV, grabbed the cables and pulled them out. Then he grabbed the useless box and almost carelessly dropped it elsewhere on the floor. Billy stared at him in silence, his eyebrows furrowed. Steve signed to him to be patient and left the room then. He walked up to his parents’ bedroom and yanked the cables out of their TV. It wasn’t like they’d be using it soon anyway. So, he dragged it down with him and only nearly killed himself twice in that process by tripping on the stairs. Once he was downstairs, he put it down where the old TV had been and plugged in the cables. 

“A second TV?” Billy snorted and Steve could only shrug.

“Hey, having rich, but basically non-existent parents has _some_ advantages,” he said as he tested the buttons to see if the TV would work. Once he saw the screen lit-up and a TV show running, he smiled, satisfied. 

“Tada!” he said proudly. Billy gave him a small smile and clapped his hands.

“Well done, you’re capable of plugging in some cables,” Billy said sarcastically, and it made Steve’s heart swell. _He’s talking_. Steve was very much aware of the difference in behavior he showed with just this morning.

“Come on, give me some credit here,” Steve complained. He didn’t actually mind, though, not at all. He pulled some of movies from the shelves and threw them towards the couch. Billy took the hint and started shifting through them.

Soon enough, they were watching a movie and another, and another. It was well into the night, onto morning when Steve achieved what he was planning for. Billy fell asleep on the couch.

Satisfied, Steve closed his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh. Man, he hadn’t realized how much he loathed being alone, until today. Having spent an entire day with Billy at his side, he knew he never wanted to be alone ever again.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit late, but here's another chapter! :D

Billy woke immediately when the doorbell rang. His body felt stiff all over. He shifted and opened his eyes.

Ah, he’d fallen asleep on the couch again. That certainly explained a lot. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, but the movement hurt and he was reminded of the blisters he’d caused himself. A sigh escaped his lips. He glanced sideways, he was sure Steve had been here too, when he fell asleep. 

Now, though, he was alone. The couch was empty, the room quiet. Billy allowed himself to wallow in that silence for a moment. Maybe Steve was upstairs?

That’s when he noticed a piece of paper on the coffee table. It hadn’t been there before. He stared at it, leaned forward and picked it up. He recognized Steve’s handwriting from back in class and wondered why he’d even paid so much attention to that at all. 

_Promised to drive the kids to the arcade, will be back at 17.00_.

Billy blinked. Five o’clock? It was afternoon already?

Suddenly, the silence was interrupted by the harsh ring of the doorbell. Billy nearly jumped, he crumbled the paper in his hand in a reflex. He cursed, then, as he saw the lines forming, interrupting the patterns of Steve’s handwriting.

“Hello!” a voice came from outside. Billy’s heart froze. It didn’t sound like the doctor, but he had many henchmen. He didn’t need to come here himself, it’d make sense for him to send someone else. Billy took a deep breath and shuddered. He took a couple more deep breaths in order to make himself feel in control again, but his mind was already wandering off. He felt suffocated, crushed, broken.

Still, maybe he should check? Right? 

He glanced at the clock. It was three-thirty, it would be a while before Steve was back. Billy looked at the hallway and decided he could at least try to peek through the window. That way, he’d know. Maybe it was just one of Steve’s neighbors, asking for some milk. He dismissed the thought right away. This was not that kind of neighborhood.

On his tiptoes, he walked over to the hallway, the door seemed to loom over him. Someone was on the other side of it, someone who might want something from _him_ , specifically. He felt cold all over and he hated it. He pulled on the sleeves of his hoody, but nothing seemed to warm him up. Not even the shoes Steve had given him last evening. Billy had no idea how Steve had known his size. 

“Look, I can _see_ you standing there, dingus, just open the door!” 

Billy blinked. The voice was shouting, but didn’t seem mean.

“Jesus, Steve, just open _up_ ,” the voice added.

And just like that, Billy did.   
\-----------------

“Holy shit.”

“Uhm, hi,” Billy said, as he stared into a girl’s wide eyes. He thought he recognized her, somewhat, maybe she’d been in his class back in high school. He honestly hardly remembered any of it. Considering her words and her deer-in-the-headlights expression, though, _she_ definitely knew _him_.

“Can I help you?” Billy asked and he felt inclined to act like he knew what he was doing. He leaned against the doorframe, trying to straighten his posture and pretend like he wasn’t wearing a hoody and sweatpants. Around Steve he’d felt comfortable just _being_ , but now he felt like he needed to be someone else again, someone he no longer was.

“You… you’re _him_ , how are you him?” The girl stuttered and frowned. She glanced passed him, as if to see whether someone else was home, too. Then, without warning, she pushed passed him and entered the house. Billy blinked and stared at her silhouette disappearing into the living room. When he turned back to the door, he quickly closed it, afraid of who else might be out on the streets.

“Steve’s not home,” Billy said, as soon as he saw the girl heading upstairs. She stopped and looked at him.

“Shit,” she muttered, “okay, but… he knows you’re here, right?”

Billy nodded, of course Steve knew. He wouldn’t just have come here without permission. Or would he? If he’d had the chance? He shook his head, no, he wouldn’t have.

The coming minutes were spent in a similar way as his first encounter with the Chief had. Lots, and lots of questions and Billy just nodded and shook his head or shrugged. He didn’t want to answer everything, didn’t know why he _should_ answer everything. He didn’t know this girl. Why was she pretending like she knew him so much better? Sure, she’d probably seen him at school, but that would’ve been the end of that.

“I don’t think I should talk to you,” he said eventually. That stopped the stream of words coming out of the girl’s mouth. She stopped pacing and looked at him, frown on her face.

“Right. No one is to know, I suppose?”

“No one.”

“That makes sense. What with you… dying and everything.”

She stood there then, balancing on the ball of her feet. She pursed her lips and nodded, seemed to be thinking things over. Then her frown disappeared and she blinked. She turned towards Billy and reached out her hand. Billy stared at the gesture, not knowing what to do with it. He stared until the girl withdrew her hand and smiled awkwardly.

“Ehm, I’m Robin,” she said. That made something click in Billy’s brain. _Robin_. He’d heard that name before, they _had_ been in the same class. Billy nodded, knew there was no point in introducing himself as well. They stood there, quietly for a while. Eventually, Robin shrugged and looked up at him once more.

“Mind if I stay?”

\------------  
He’d said no. No, he didn’t mind. Robin could stay. She was waiting for Steve, it was only fair. But by now he’d locked himself up in the bathroom, growing more and more anxious, because he didn’t know what to _do_ with her. Should he talk to her, should he not? Steve clearly liked her a lot, she entered his house like it was her own. They must be pretty close friends.

Billy felt his chest tighten. He jaw tensed. He looked up into the mirror and saw angry eyes. Behind him, the shadows cast by the shower curtain were moving, ever so slightly. _Shit_. He focused on getting the tension out of his body. _Relax_ , he told himself. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Was he jealous, because there was someone else in Steve’s life? Jealous, because Steve had people who cared, and he didn’t. Did it hurt, because she was a _girl_ and Billy knew Steve and Nancy hadn’t been a thing since that autumn before everything had gone to hell? Or was he just scared in general? Not as much because she was a girl, but because she was a person, someone who required Steve’s attention, someone that could draw him away from Billy.

He took a deep breath. He didn’t want to feel any of that. He didn’t want to take it out on her. But as he stared into his own eyes, he realized another thing entirely: he felt angry. And he hadn’t thought he could feel that anymore. It scared him, then. He took a step back from the sink, blinked at his own torn image in the mirror. A shiver ran down his spine. Why did it feel like Steve was his only life-line? Like if he didn’t have Steve he might as well disappear, might as well walk right out of that door and wander the streets until those scientists found him. He might as well not have escaped at all.

“Hey, ehm, you okay in there?” 

Billy jumped at the voice, coming just from beyond the door. He blinked and eyed the curtains behind him, but the shadows didn’t seem to be moving anymore. His eyes didn’t seem to be angry, just sad. He gritted his teeth. He hated looking at his face. 

He didn’t respond to the girl, Robin, but instead just opened the door and walked right into her. She backed off quickly.

“I’m sorry, I was just… worried, I guess?” Her voice wavered. She seemed just as uncertain what to do with herself around him, as he was around her. It made Billy feel slightly better. He regarded her for a moment and realized something. He’d seen her before, not just at school, but she’d been there. With Steve. At the mall. She knew of the monsters.

That’s when something dawned on him, she might just be exactly what he needed. A person to tell about the things he knew, without having to feel worried about what they might think, feel or judge him for. Sure, he didn’t want to scare anyone with the things he knew, but least of all, he wanted to scare Steve. So, if he told her about the monsters… She could deal with it without Steve, right? No, that didn’t seem right. She’d tell Steve. And what could she do on her own?

They needed the girl, El, Billy knew that. Although the scientists had been convinced they could do it without her. They’d been convinced all they needed was him.

“Penny for your thoughts?"

Billy looked at her. He pursed his lips. Would it really be such a bad idea? At the very least, she could tell Steve and then he wouldn’t have to be the one to shatter his world. That sounded good. Was it unfair towards her? Well… she _did_ just ask, didn’t she?

“Come,” he said and led her to the living room. He wasn’t going to do all of this standing awkwardly in the hallway. So, he sat down on the couch and waited for her to join him. As soon as she did, she blinked at the broken TV, disregarded on the expensive carpet. Billy was pretty sure she’d been in this room just before, to check for Steve, but clearly she hadn’t been paying much attention to the furniture.

“What happened to that?” She studied the broken glass as if she could somehow deduce something from it. When she couldn’t she looked up at him again. 

“Me,” Billy said simply and shrugged. It could’ve meant a whole number of things, but judging from the frown on her face, she didn’t seem to believe that Billy had just smashed it in anger. She dropped it, though and went to sit on the couch, a safe distance from Billy. She immediately pulled her shoes off and put her feet up on the couch. She shuffled until she sat in a position that Billy very much recognized, because it was how he often liked to sit himself. It was the exact opposite from how parents teach you to sit, the exact opposite from _decent_ and _polite_.

“You know about the monsters,” Billy stated and waited for Robin to nod while her eyebrows furrowed. “They’re…” Billy sighed. He didn’t want to say it. Saying it made it real, but he also knew that he’d been ignoring it for too long by now. Even though he’d just been here one day, he should’ve told Steve right away. He should’ve told the Chief. He should’ve asked for El, or just done something himself. But it’d been too tempting not to. Too tempting to just sit here, watch TV and read, listen for the soft footsteps filling the silence when Steve walked through the kitchen. He’d been too tempted to stay.

“Billy, what about the monsters?” Robin's voice trembled slightly. She looked directly at him, as if she feared he might disappear if she looked away for just one second. 

“They’re still here,” Billy said. 

Robin frowned, her lips turned into a straight line. She subconsciously folded her hands into fists. After a while, a deep breath escaped her. 

“The Demodogs?” The question was almost hopeful, as if she figured Demodogs were easy enough to deal with. In comparison to the real problem, she wasn’t wrong.

“No.” 

Silence followed. Neither of them seemed to be able to look away from the other. Billy tried to find his words, but the words he was looking for terrified him. He couldn’t seem to form the words. Couldn’t seem to _think_ them, without his breath hitching and his heart beating heavy. Billy’s mouth felt dry. He felt something itch in his legs, as if his entire being was trying to warm him to go, go, _go_. But he stared at Robin and then, she nodded. 

“The big monster,” she said with determination. Billy merely nodded in return. His stomach sank. He couldn’t get himself to say it, still, but she’d been spot on. Billy swallowed. He started pulling at his sleeves, trying to keep his mind distracted from the very obvious fact that nothing was solved yet. That his death hadn’t mattered, El’s pain hadn’t mattered, all those people who’d been lured in, dragged away, taken over and sacrificed, none of it had mattered. 

The ultimate evil was still there and the scientists? 

Oh, the scientists were trying to lure it out.

“Well _shit_ ,” Robin muttered and she looked away then, finally, and got to her feet, cursed some more. She started pacing. Her eyes fell onto the broken TV once more and she frowned, pointing vaguely in its direction.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” 

Billy was almost impressed by her. Her ability to draw connections. It could’ve just been a broken television screen and Billy could’ve just broken it with his fists. Yet, here they were. There was a determination in her every move. Her fear was obvious, but there was something else too. Billy recognized it, had seen it before. When Steve had come, stopped him, crashed into his car. That determination. The need to _protect_ despite of how afraid one might be. He knew it’d been the right call to tell her then. Knew she was going to be helpful in whatever it was they needed to do next, more helpful than he himself would be.

Robin stared at him, wide eyes, and seemed to be searching for words, for the right questions to ask. Billy knew he was going to have to answer a whole lot of those before he was done with this. He figured that maybe that was a good thing, after all. Despite of how afraid _he_ might be.

“Billy," Robin started, "where have you _been_?”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos & comments are appreciated;)


End file.
